


We're Free

by Hydra_bitch_please01



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Oliver kink, Love, Olicity Reunion, PTSD, Post-Episode: s07e07 The Slabside Redemption, season 7, wedding anniversary sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 16:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hydra_bitch_please01/pseuds/Hydra_bitch_please01
Summary: Olicity reunion post Episode S7x07 from Felicity's perspective - A two shot focusing on olicity in the aftermath of Oliver's release from Slabside.





	We're Free

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter doesn't include any smut, instead focusing on the immediate aftermath of Oliver's release from Felicity's perspective. But smut will be a coming next chapter folks ;)

Felicity paced the pavement, pulling her ponytail out again and redoing it absentmindedly, as Dig stood patiently by her side.

“He should be out soon, Felicity,” John said softly, trying to calm her.

She nodded quickly, her ponytail bobbing in the air, but she didn’t slow down or stop. No, she kept going round in circles, her high heeled boots pounding against the cement. Her brain, like her feet, couldn’t slow down even if she wanted it to. 

She’d heard from the prison not two hours ago that ‘a riot’ had occurred, but she couldn’t get any more details. She knew, she  _ felt _ it in her bones, that it was Diaz. He was supposed to be getting transferred to Slabside today. Somehow, he must have broken from his detail within the prison - probably paid some guards off - and gotten to Oliver’s level. Felicity gritted her teeth. The FBI had promised to keep them separate, but refused to assign them different prisons. She fought against it, but it wasn’t enough. She was only a civilian, after all. 

Now she wished she’d fought harder. 

When they got to the prison and Felicity saw the chaos outside, men and women in suits, firemen and SWAT everywhere, she could barely contain the panic welling inside. She was barely holding on. She knew he was safe two hours ago, but she also knew painfully well that anything could happen in two hours. 

Checking her phone for the millionth time, she took a deep breath. Oliver should be released any minute. In mere seconds, Felicity could touch her husband for the first time in seven months and three days. 

The same man she’d spent all this time resenting for forcing this choice on her while desperately missing him; ever since he’d disappeared from her life she’d felt like a part of her very body, her soul, was gone. She’d felt lost without Oliver by her side and empty thinking of all the things she’d have to do alone. She’d spent so long trying to reconcile it all, but she never could. It felt wrong. 

He didn’t deserve such a punishment. He didn’t deserve more pain, more loss, after everything he’d gone through for over a decade. Oliver especially didn’t deserve to have to martyr himself to somehow prove that he was a good man, a good Green Arrow, to the city, team, or anyone. And despite the anger she felt towards him for hiding his choice from her, she knew he only hid it because he knew she’d never let him go through with it. He did what he felt he had to do, which was something she was beginning to truly understand. 

The realization all those months ago that everything she feared would happen one day had happened - that she may never see her husband again without a glass wall separating them. It was too much to bear alone. And she did bear it alone. 

She had to go it alone in witness protection for she would never put that weight on William’s shoulders. Felicity wanted him to stay a kid for as long as possible, even under the near impossible circumstances. And she had no one else. Felicity’s mother was still angry with her for lying about their double life and for disappearing; they were barely speaking. But she had the support of her friends, mainly Lyla and Dig. It wasn’t enough, especially after sending away her son because Felicity couldn’t protect him. 

Hope, despair and relief swelled in her, chipping away at her lungs, her heart, as she waited for her husband to be released. 

For for the first time in over a year, she didn’t have to worry about growing old without him by her side. She’ll get the chance to wake up with him every morning again. Oliver would get to see William grow into the responsible and brilliant adult Felicity had begun to witness. They’d have time to raise children together. To be a family. That’s all she wanted for them. It’s what she needed.

“We would have gotten a call if he wasn’t being released,” John interjected quietly, his hand coming up to rest on her shoulder. 

She stilled momentarily and closed her eyes. “What if he’s not okay, Dig?” 

He squeezed her shoulder and she let the familiar weight of his grasp steady her. “You know more than anyone that he’s tough. Oliver will be okay because  _ you  _ got him out.”

Felicity nodded, wiping away unshed tears with the back of her hand. She had to hold it together for Oliver. She couldn’t crack. Not now. 

The sound of metal screeching against cement made her flinch. Turning around and searching for the familiar ice blue eyes of her husband, Dig dropped his hand from her arm. Standing still she grasped her own hands, her fingers playing with her wedding band, as she searched the chaos for Oliver. 

Her breath hitched in her throat when her eyes landed on the familiar shape of her husband limping towards them. Forcing herself to not move she studied Oliver as he walked through the first gate. Struck with a feeling of reverence and hope amid the destruction she couldn’t look away as he closed his eyes and let his face tilt towards the sky. 

The second gate opened and her heart stilled, cracking open into blistering pain when she saw the state of him. His face was covered in dried blood. 

Nothing could have prepared her for this. 

Felicity’s throat clenched in horror mingled with relief. Overwhelmed with the moment she reached out for John’s arm and only found air as the sight of Oliver’s broken form sunk in. She thought he might be injured, but she never let herself think he’d look so - 

When he opened his eyes he stepped forward until he’d passed the last gate, but stopped in his tracks as he caught her gaze. In that moment there was no one else in the world. It didn’t matter where they were or what they’d been through. It was Oliver,  _ her _ Oliver, and he was out. Something she didn’t know if she’d ever live to see. 

“Come here,” he mouthed. 

She couldn’t hear it, but Felicity’s heart stuttered all the same; She’d read his lips countless times mid missions and, thus, knew exactly what he wanted. Unable to hold back any longer she walked to him with purposeful strides until they were only inches apart. He stood there, bloodied and bruised. 

Broken. And it ripped her heart open.

She ignored his hesitant hand that reached out to be held, knowing that wouldn’t be enough. Nothing would be enough. Cupping his cheek shakily she reveled in his warmth as he leaned into her touch like he always had.

It was real. 

_ Oliver’s home.  _

Tears clouded her eyes as Felicity brought her other hand up to his face, her touch a little more steady. Oliver’s eyes shined with a dazed disbelief as he glanced down at her with love and admiration. Felicity’s fingers brushed lightly against cuts and dried blood and she felt her lungs give out in relief. He was broken, but here. 

_ Oliver’s safe.  _

_ Alive. _

Felicity’s chest heaved in a quiet sob as he kissed her for the first time in seven months. His lips, while cracked and tasting of blood, felt like home. She felt his shoulders sag under her, his muscles relax, as her hands slid to his neck. She pulled away lightly, careful not to hurt him, and let her head fall to the croak of his neck as his hands came up to rest on her back. He pulled her in for a tight embrace despite the hiss of pain coming from his lips. 

Silent tears streamed down her face as she closed her eyes and allowed herself to be held, her fingers gripping the polyester fabric on his back in an attempt to keep him from ever leaving again. In response, his hand slid up her back to between her shoulder blades, keeping her pressed against him. 

“Shh,” Oliver whispered into her hair with that silky soft tone he only used with her. “I’m okay. I’m out. Everything will be okay.” 

Felicity kissed his neck once and pulled away to fix her glasses. His hand reached for her immediately and she responded without looking, clasping her hand in his like a phantom limb. Gritting his teeth, his free hand came up to brush against her jaw.

She smiled at the hesitant touch. For a man who was known for being brutal with others, he was always so sweet with her; it was one of the many things she loved about Oliver Queen.

Eyes pleading, he asked, “William?”

Tilting her head, she kissed his hand. “He’s fine. Still at school. He’ll come home in a couple of weeks for the holidays.”

He let out a sigh. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Felicity repeated softly. 

She noticed the gate behind them had closed and wondered when that had happened. Shaking herself out of her revere, she said, “Come on.” 

He nodded, so she gently took his arm and placed it over her shoulder, trying to limit the amount of strain on his body. He’d pretend he wasn’t in pain but she could tell. She could see it in the pinched eyebrows and the way the vein on his neck popped out slightly. 

“Lean on me, baby,” Felicity whispered gratefully as she slipped her arm around his back carefully.

He did and they walked, more like limped, towards Dig. 

She studied his body, almost knowing the way he moved as well as her own form. From the way he was walking she assumed he had at least a few cracked ribs, a bruised hip and a pulled calf muscle. Likely, all of the above, if not worse. From the lack of blood seeping through to the top layer of clothing she hoped he didn’t have many open wounds, but she couldn’t be sure. From the lack of color in his cheeks, he was either in extreme pain and physically exhausted or had lost a lot of blood at some point in the past six hours. Neither option was great.

Making a mental note to get a script for an antibiotic for Oliver to avoid the risk of infection, she glanced at Dig who was waiting patiently for them. She smiled at her friend - the same man she’d been fighting with for weeks, but who had her back for years - and he smiled in return. 

They needed to hash a few things out first, but she hoped they could put the past behind them soon. Now that Oliver was home hopefully things would return to normal or at least semi normal - whatever ‘normal’ even meant for the people of team Arrow when their secret identities had been revealed. 

“It’s good to see you,” John said as they approached. 

“It’s good to be out.” Oliver gave him the beginnings of a fatigued grin. 

“I know the feeling.”

Felicity smirked and Oliver laughed lightly, his arm never leaving her shoulders.

Dig clasped his free shoulder in greeting. “No, but seriously, I’m glad you’re okay, man.” He looked Oliver up and down and frowned. “Why don’t we get you in the car?”

“I can walk.” Silently, Dig glared at him until he relented. “Fine, I could use some help.”

“Look who’s learning how to ask for help,” Felicity teased, smiling up at her husband. “Such a big boy, aren’t you?”

Oliver’s lips quirked up at the jab.

Dig came around and grabbed Oliver’s other arm. He hissed in unexpected pain; Felicity took mental note of the injury instantly, biting back the need to strip his shirt off him here, in the damn prison parking lot, and inspect it now. 

Oliver gritted his teeth and beared it while Felicity and John helped him stumble the half a mile to the car. She knew he hated it when he needed help, but the man looked like a car ran over him. If Dig hadn’t pushed it, she would have. 

Reaching the SUV and realizing that Oliver very well may need to lay down for the ride, she was instantly grateful that they took John’s car. Oliver didn’t fit very well in her bright red mini all those years ago when he laid almost dead and bleeding in her car’s backseat - and, shocker, she never did get those stains completely out. She couldn’t imagine trying to sit next to him in the back seat and there was no way she was sitting up front without him. 

Dig slipped out from under Oliver’s arm and opened the door for them. “Backseat should be clean. I vacuumed off the Cheerios this morning.”

Felicity smiled at the mention of Dig’s son who had just turned four a bit over a month ago; she’d missed the party while in witness protection, but Lyla showed her photos when she went over for dinner one night. Before William entered her life she never really understood the appeal of looking at photos of kids. Sure, J.J was adorable and she adored playing with him as a toddler, but still. Now though, now, she imagined having those memories with Will when he was little and knew that if she had photos of them, she’d cherish them forever. 

As Oliver was about to attempt to slide into the car at an angle Felicity stopped him with a gentle hand to his chest. She let her palm linger as he glanced at her in confusion, but she shook her head and turned away. Using the lever, she pushed the seat back until it was almost completely down. Sensing his irritation with her concern Felicity smiled and waved him forward. “There’s no way you’re in good enough condition to sit up for over an hour, so go head. You can get in now.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but closed it and nodded instead.

Grateful that he wasn’t falling back into old habits of saving face Felicity relaxed. He slowly slid in, clearly avoiding using his left arm and abs to maneuver into the car. Quickly, she made her way around the car and got in next to him, moving the middle compartment out of his way before he could get settled. 

John shut the door, leaving them alone for a moment. 

Catching Oliver off guard, Felicity scooched to the middle seat and gave him another quick kiss as relief flooded her. 

“Hi,” she whispered against his mouth. 

“Hi.” He smiled, the first full and genuine one she’d seen in almost a year. She wanted to frame the image - bloody face, gross beard and all - to remind herself of what she almost lost. 

“You know this is getting shaved off, right?” she teased, as her hand brushed against the beard.

“You don’t like?” he asked, puppy dog eyes on display. She shook her head, the grin never leaving her face. 

The front door slammed shut. “Are you two going to buckle up or make out because I can go take a walk,” John said dryly, looking at them expectantly in the rear-view mirror.

Oliver raised his eyebrows at her in a hopeful gesture. 

Rolling her eyes at them both, she said, “Buckle your seatbelt, Oliver.” 

Moving away from him, his fingers brushed against her bomber jacket, but she ignored it; they’d have plenty of time to touch once they were left alone. 

She dropped her own seatbelt when Oliver hissed in pain next to her.  _ His arm,  _ she remembered. Instantly turning in her seat she leaned over and stopped his left arm from reaching for his seatbelt again. “I got it,” she whispered, taking it from him and locking it in place. 

He was frowning, good ol’ pouting Oliver was apparently back, but he let her do it anyway. It unsettled her slightly. Not that long ago, her husband hadn’t batted an eye when she’d offered to help him with something mundane. Now, he seemed almost upset.

As she buckled herself in she reminded herself that it had been a very long time since her husband could lean on anyone for support. It would be unsurprising to think he would revert back, at least somewhat, to the man she knew seven years ago. In which case, the fact that he was letting her do  _ anything  _ for him right now was a plus.

_ Baby steps. _

The engine revved and John pulled out of the Slabside parking lot as Felicity’s mind whirled with thoughts. 

What if they had both changed too much in their time apart? She’d certainly changed. She’d had to. And there was no way Oliver left prison life unscathed. He’d been dehumanized, psychologically tortured and constantly on alert for his life from the men he’d put away for almost a year. He’d  _ just  _ survived a prison riot that she assumed was orchestrated by a man who wanted her entire family dead. How could that  _ not  _ change him? 

Suddenly more worried than she would like to admit she glanced over to find her husband staring at her, his eyes soft and open. Nothing like the often cold, expressionless and emotionally distant man she’d met seven years ago.

Sighing a breath of relief, his hand found hers and her heart began to slow to a steady comforting beat as his touch grounded her to reality. They’d been through worse and found their way back to each other. They could do so again.

She glanced down. His knuckles raw, split and caked in blood, his hand bruised, clasped in her soft and untouched but tidy much smaller hand; somewhere in the past two months she’d stopped bothering with polish, both professional and self done, for the first time in almost ten years. It seemed unimportant. Everything was if it kept her from catching Diaz. If it kept her from protecting her family and freeing her husband. Nothing else mattered. 

Three years ago, she’d have thought their contrasting hands were a metaphor of their relationship, but now… Now she didn’t know. Felicity might not have physical blood on her hands, but it was only a technicality at this point. And if it wasn’t for Laurel’s timing that technicality would be no more and Oliver would still be in prison. She’d almost crossed a line there was no coming back from and deep down she knew she would do it all over again in a heartbeat. Seven years ago, Felicity was just an IT girl with minimal life experience outside of computer sciences. She’d believed in a strict code of morality where killing was always wrong. Yet, ever since she’d started working with Oliver things had changed. It hadn’t taken her long to accept the reality that some criminals had to die if it meant Oliver coming home at the end of the night. And over the years the lines of right and wrong became blurry. This past year only made those changes more prevalent, more noticeable. The bitter reminder of how much she’d changed made her taste acid.

Looking up, Felicity caught his eye. 

“You okay?” he asked quietly. 

She nodded, letting her head lay against the headrest as she continued looking at him. “I will be now,” she said honestly.

He eyed her as though he was about to speak, but paused almost as if he was reevaluating something; she’d seen that look on his face enough times to know. Instead of saying what was on his mind he nodded. 

“We should talk about the riot.”

That wasn’t what she expected. She wanted, no, needed, answers about the riot, but it could wait. 

“No.”

“Felicity-”

“Not right now,” she interrupted. “Now, you sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

Felicity smirked at him. “It’s cute you think you can still successfully lie to me about something like that.”

His eyes red rimmed and black and blue closed as his head leaned against his headrest. 

“It takes a little over an hour to get to the Star City hotel we’ll be staying at, so you have plenty of time for a twenty minute nap. You can sleep the whole way if you need it.”

He looked over at her his eyebrows furrowed. “Hotel?” 

She smiled sadly and nodded. “Yes, we sold our old place when I went into witsec. I’ve been staying on Renee’s couch since I got back,” Felicity said softly. “I figured you could use an actual bed though.”

“Joh-?” he whispered confused. 

She shook her head quickly, giving him a look that said it was a long story. One she would tell him at a later date. For now, it was likely best he didn’t know all the details. 

Avoiding the raw wounds as much as possible her fingers brushed lightly against his in a repetitive soothing motion. “You’re safe,” she whispered, figuring this was something Dig didn’t need to hear. “Sleep now. We’ll talk when you wake up. Okay?” 

“Kay,” he mumbled, watching their hands. “I missed  _ this _ .”

Smiling, her eyes welled with tears once more. “I did too.”

She held his hand, refusing to let go, as he slowly drifted off into slumber not five minutes later. 

***

Needing to keep busy Felicity shot out a number of texts to those who’d want an update as Oliver slept next to her in the car: Thea, Lyla, Dinah, Curtis, Renee and Laurel. Her phone vibrated, a new message popping up from Thea. Felicity clicked on it and smiled. She hadn’t heard from Oliver’s little sister in months. It had been far too long. 

**Thea Queen:** Let him sleep. I’ll try to call tomorrow and fyi don’t be surprised when you see a package on your hotel room doorstep ;) HAPPY EARLY FIRST WEDDING ANNIVERSARY!

Felicity froze, her eyes scanning the message again. She’d completely forgotten their anniversary. 

I have two days, she realized, her eyes going wide. Her mind went wild with ideas. She needed to do something good - something utterly fantastic - and she was coming up blank. 

Waking, Oliver jumped, his hand flying from Felicity’s as hers dropped to the cold leather seat. Instantly forgetting everything, her eyes darted from the iphone screen in her other hand to her husband as he sat up and grunted in agony, his eyes wildly surveying every which way in the car.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Felicity whispered in a soothing tone, her hand coming up to rest over his heart, abandoning her phone. She locked eyes with him, letting her touch ground him the way it always had after a bad dream. His chest rose and fell in quick succession. “It’s okay. We’re all safe. You’re out. You’re free, Oliver.”

His jaw and throat were lost under the beard, but she heard him swallow as he slowly came to himself. She wondered how often the nightmares had been coming since they’d separated. It was like a knife twisting in her gut at the thought that he’d been living in a cold dark cell alone. Unable to shed the fears that had plagued him like the times on Lian Yu. At least she’d had a William and a bed with a normal roof over her head. She’d had her freedom. 

Heart stuttering, she slid her hand up his chest and onto his neck. Her lip shook when he closed his eyes. Gripping his sweaty skin tightly, she steeled herself and vowed to never let him go again. “I got you. I always will,” she said, her voice deep and steady with resolve despite everything. Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead as a single tear fell down her cheek. 

No matter what, she would never let this happen again. She refused to let her family be separated. She refused to run and hide. She refused to ever let Oliver think she’d leave him again. She refused to let William feel abandoned and left without a father. Yet, again. She was done having her family broken in pieces. Felicity Smoak was a Queen now and Queen’s didn’t stop fighting for their family. 

Never. 

His good arm came up around her waist, pulling her a little closer. As they held each other in the backseat of Dig’s car, a bittersweet relief ran through her veins. “You’re home,” she whispered, needing to hear it as much as he did. “You’re home, baby.” 

Felicity pulled away, suddenly worried that the awkward angle was hurting her husband more than he would admit. He caught her before she could get far, his hand on her back as he kissed her fiercely. His pain, relief and hope were spoken without words as their tongues met for the first time in so long. She pulled away breathless, tasting blood from his cut lip. He looked at her in a way she hadn’t seen in years. A kind of longing and disbelieving hope mixed with adoration behind those bright blue eyes. 

“I love you,” Oliver breathed reverently, his eyes shining with unshed tears like they had on the day of their wedding reception almost a year ago.

She grinned, her hand running through his short hair. “I love you too.” Felicity quickly kissed him on the lips once, twice, three times before adding, “You’ve always been worth the wait.”

He smiled, the familiar lines around his eyes crinkling in happiness. Under the almost unrecognizably bruised, battered and bearded face was the man she fell in love with years ago. As the seconds went by, every mole and every line she recognized made her calmer, reminding her that not  _ everything _ had changed. 

Lost in each other, Dig cleared his throat from the driver's seat.

Immediately they turned their attention to him. Felicity almost forgot he was here. At least their clothes were still on - that was a plus. Granted, had Oliver been uninjured they’d probably already be at it like rabbits.

“We’ll be there in ten minutes, tops,” Dig said. 

“Okay,” Felicity muttered under her breath, nodding to him. 

Dig turned up the music a little louder, something obnoxiously classic rock, and went back to driving. 

Immediately she sat up, ignoring Oliver’s protests, and unbuckled her seatbelt. 

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up. “Put that back on right now.”

She rolled her eyes, slightly amused that he really thought he could go back to ordering her around; it had never worked, truthfully. The first night she had spent working with him she’d left the arrow cave pissed when he’d refused to hear her out. Felicity had vowed that night that she’d never work with The Hood again. Oh, how wrong she’d been. 

“Nope,” she said, popping the letter p dramatically, as she leaned behind them into the third row to grab a bag. 

“What are you -” 

“I’m cleaning you up, that’s what.” She unzipped the duffel and pulled out a washcloth and some rubbing alcohol. 

“Felicity -”

“No, Oliver. Someone very well might recognize you. I have no interest in drawing even more attention to ourselves than we already will. You are  _ not _ walking into a hotel full of people in a dirty prison get up looking like you just survived a bloody bar brawl. I will not have photos of you like this online. You deserve better than to be a sensationalized story on the nightly news. I can hear the ridicule now. It’s not going to happen.”

She opened the bag wider to show him the contents. “I brought sweatpants - your favorite pair - a shirt, your green hoodie and your brown leather jacket. I figure with the hoodie up and the beard, most people won’t recognize you immediately. If we can get to the elevator without being recognized, then we should be good.” 

“Felicity, I -” His eyes darted to John.

Huffing, Felicity said, “Please, it’s not like Dig’s never seen you. How many times has he had to bring you back from the brink of death?”

“Well,” Oliver started, grimacing.

“No.” She put her hand up. “Scratch that. If you’ve counted, I don’t wanna know.” 

“Fine,” he said as she started dabbing at his face to remove some of the caked on blood. 

Biting her lip, Felicity finally relented and asked what she’d been meaning to since she learned of the riot. “It was Diaz, wasn’t it?”

Oliver frowned. “Yes.”

Her hand stilled as her throat clenched, but almost immediately went back to work on his cheek, wiping off blood and revealing even more bruised skin underneath. 

“How bad was the riot?” she whispered.

His hand came up to brush against her elbow. “I don’t know how he got in, but every prisoner got out of their cells. Many of them teamed up with Diaz. Multiple guards died. The place was on fire. It wasn’t good.”

“Wait,” Felicity said, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “You took down  _ everyone, _ alone?” 

She knew her husband was good - great, even - but was he actually that good? No way. Someone had to have been watching his back.

“No actually,” he mumbled. “I had the help of Turner.” 

“Who?” she asked, distractedly wiping away the last remnants of blood, revealing a few cuts on his cheek and forehead. 

“Bronze Tiger.”

Felicity sat back, fumbling for words. “Wait, China White and Suicide Squad, Bronze Tiger?  _ That  _ Bronze Tiger?” 

“Do we know anyone else named Bronze Tiger, Felicity? Yes, him. Without Turner, I’d be dead right now.”

Felicity’s hand fell to her lap as a dull ache settled in her gut. She didn’t know how she felt about owing a man who had previously felt it was okay to steal a machine that could level half a city and kill thousands. Yet, he was also the man who’d saved Lyla’s life once. And now he’d saved Oliver’s as well. That counted for something, she decided.

“Is Turner alive?” 

“Yes.”

“Good,” Felicity said as she started cleaning his beard of blood. “Is Diaz alive?” 

“No,” Oliver said harshly. 

She looked up at her husband, whose eyes had grown conflicted, cold, in the last few seconds, and steeled herself. “Good,” Felicity spat. His eyebrows rose ever so slightly, but she still noticed. “Did you do it?” 

“I had no choice... The prison’s dealing with shit for the riot. They won’t press charges against me.” His lip quirked up. “Surprisingly, a couple of guards who hated me came to my defense. The warden wanted me to stay, but the FBI followed through with the deal.”

“They better fucking keep their promise,” Felicity scoffed, tossing the cloth aside. “I warned them Diaz would be a loose canon and they refused to move him to a different prison. They said they could  _ handle it _ . Fucking idiots.  _ All _ of them.”

She glanced up to see Oliver staring at her disbelievingly. 

“ _ What _ ? I can curse.”

“Well, yeah,” he said slowly. “But you rarely do.”

Ignoring him with a quick shake of her head, she undid his seatbelt and gently pulled it away from Oliver’s injured arm. “Okay, mister, let’s get you changed for civilian life.” 

After a bit of groaning - the bad kind - and odd maneuvering Oliver was dressed in sweatpants. He kept the white shirt on, which she assumed meant the injury was worse than he’d admit. Felicity slipped his arms through the hoodie’s sleeves with care, avoiding moving his shoulders too much. Once the sweatshirt was on she zipped it up, leaving only a little white showing. Felicity smiled to herself. It was good to see him in something she remembered. Something that’s  _ his _ .

“Good,” she said, pleased with herself despite her reeling mind. “When we pull it up hopefully no one will see enough of your face to recognize you.”

Oliver’s lips twitched.

“What?” she asked quickly. “Is something wrong?” 

“You really thought my best disguise would be a green hood?” 

Her fingers froze on the familiar hoodie, her lips making an O shape.  _ Shit.  _ “I actually hadn’t thought about it like that.”

His eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t show any other signs of surprise.

“This could be a problem,” she thought out loud, feeling her heart begin to race, “Especially since I’m  _ easily _ recognizable. If we go in together and you’re wearing a green hood and limping - Shit, I didn’t think this through at all. I should have picked a black one or  _ any  _ other color really.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said reassuringly. “It’ll be fine. People _will_ see less of my face. It’s still a good plan.” Still kicking herself for the lack of foresight, she nodded slowly in resignation. “And it smells like you,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving hers. “That’s always good.”

Resting her hands against his chest, Felicity smiled sadly. “That’s because I sleep in it sometimes. Since you left I’ve been wearing a lot of your clothes - the one’s I could keep at least… They all stopped smelling like you eventually though.” 

“Honey,” Oliver croaked.

Patting his chest, she said a little too lightly, “It’s fine.”

“It’s not though,” he admitted, swallowing loudly. “I shouldn’t have -”

“Not right now,” Felicity interrupted, cradling his face in her hands. “We can talk later.”

He sighed. “I don’t want this to ruin-”

“Hey, no.  _ Oliver _ , I wasn’t lying,” she said soothingly, her hands sliding down his neck. “I’m in this for the long haul. Remember, I’m glue, baby. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

Felicity kissed him softly until the car slowed to a stop and the music turned off. 

“We’re here,” Dig announced. 

She pulled herself off of Oliver despite his best attempt to keep her close. 

Dig turned around in the front seat. “I should have taken a walk, huh?” 

Felicity smiled awkwardly, feeling her cheeks warm as she fixed her glasses.

She’d never exactly been subtle with Oliver. Even before they were together Felicity hadn’t been shy about eye fucking him, especially when he used the salmon ladder. Shirtless. Always shirtless. How could she  _ not. _ Not when those glorious abs were staring at her, practically calling to her. She had to watch. When they’d gotten together they had tried to keep the groping to a minimum in front of others and for the most part it worked. Except for a few times in the Arrow Cave. There was that  _ one _ time Dig caught Oliver on his knees in front of her... But they didn’t speak of that night. No, that was Dig’s only request. Well, that and for them to always lock the training room door before any ‘funny business’ occurred as he called it.

“Sorry,” she mumbled to Dig, licking her lips in embarrassment and avoiding Oliver’s heady gaze. At least she wasn’t wearing lipstick this afternoon. 

When Dig hopped out of the car, she grabbed the brown leather jacket and helped her husband into it slowly as he hissed in discomfort. Rarely had she seen him openly express pain. He’d usually just gritted his teeth unless it had been excruciating. There was no way he hadn’t cracked,  _ at least _ , two ribs and somehow done serious damage to his shoulder in the riot. From the way he was turning, she assumed he’d done something to his back as well. 

Felicity slid the green hood onto his head and smiled in reassurance while internally cursing herself. The green hood was practically a flashing neon light that screamed ‘The Green Arrow Is Here.’ Even the beard barely did anything. They’d be recognized in seconds if they didn’t move fast enough - and in his state, there was no way Oliver would be moving fast enough. 

Before she could say anything else Dig opened Oliver’s car door and asked, “You ready?” 

His shoulders grew tense instantly under her hands, but he nodded. 

“Okay,” Felicity said, smiling wide. “Let’s get you to bed.”

She pecked his lips once before grabbing the duffel bag and getting out of the car, making her way around to his side to find Oliver slowly easing himself out of it. Felicity looked around and saw no one else. Swallowing in relief that no one had been tipped off as to his release and location, she glanced at her husband as he closed the door behind him. 

“Do you mind escorting us up? Ya know, incase we get crowded,” Felicity asked Dig. 

John smiled ruefully. “A black driver’s duties never end, do they?” 

Oliver huffed as Felicity’s smile grew more genuine at the joking reference. “A secretary’s duties never end either,” she agreed, holding up her phone as another text came in. 

“I’m never going to live that one down, am I?” Oliver asked quietly. 

“Never,” they said in unison. 

Oliver laughed, nodding. “I thought so.”

“Okay,” Felicity said as her palm landed on Oliver’s lower back. “Let’s go before someone sees.”

John nodded in agreement. “You think you can walk on your own?” 

“Yes.”

With that, all three of them, John leading the way, walked into the hotel. Felicity’s eyes darted across the large entry, spotting only four or five people including hotel workers. Her hand grasped the back of her husband’s jacket in support, a surge of protectiveness washing over her once more. They slowly made their way to the elevator as a few heads turned to watch. No one moved towards them. When the elevator dinged and the doors opened Felicity let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Once the doors were firmly closed and they were on their way to the eighth floor she let her arm fall from Oliver’s back and rested her head against the elevator wall. 

Felicity only saw one phone out in the hotel lobby, which was good. Much better than she was expecting. However, she also knew that, that  _ one _ phone meant any minute people all over social media would know that the green arrow was staying in the Star City Marriott. Oliver would barely be able to leave the hotel room from now on without people’s eyes on him. She didn’t know how she felt about it, but she knew Oliver wouldn’t be happy. Their location being outed was unsafe, yes, but she also knew he’d feel trapped with so many people watching his every move. Not being able to leave their room much would certainly make him feel stir crazy, especially after living in a cell for so long. 

Felicity made a mental note to make a few calls about finding an apartment while Oliver slept tonight. The sooner they got into a new place - somewhere with security - the better.

The doors opened sooner than she expected, startling her from her thoughts. She slowly followed Oliver out of the elevator, watching her husband as he limped down the hall after their friend. The hallway was empty, thank god, so she didn’t rush him. 

Eventually, they reached the door. Felicity grabbed the keycard out of the back pocket of her jeans when her eyes landed on a long package laying in front of the door. She quickly picked it up.

“Who’s that from?” Oliver asked.

“Don’t worry, it isn’t a bomb or anything. I was expecting it,” Felicity explained as she opened the door and ushered Oliver inside. He did as she asked without question.

She looked up to find John still standing in the hall, unmoving. “You comin’?” Felicity asked, eyebrows raised. 

“I should give you two some time,” he said softly, his eyes darting to Oliver as he disappeared behind Felicity and into the room. 

“Please. Dig, I’m not gonna jump Oliver’s bones when he can barely move - I’ve been waiting seven months, I can wait a day or two more... At least come in for a minute,” Felicity said exasperated, rolling her eyes.

John smirked.

“Don’t be ridiculous, John. Get in here!” Oliver yelled.

Felicity grinned cockily at her friend as John gave in and walked into the hotel room. Letting the door slam behind them she walked in as well to find Oliver trying to take off his jacket. Huffing in frustration, she dropped Thea’s present on the bed and quickly jogged over to him to help. 

“Stop,” she said in annoyance when he didn’t stop trying to do it himself. “Let me help.” 

His arms went limp as Felicity helped ease his arms out of the unforgivingly stiff leather. 

“How’s the family, John?” 

“Well,” he replied. “J.J’s good when he’s not being sneaky and Lyla’s good. Happy and focused on work as usual.” 

Oliver nodded. “Good, I’m glad. Family’s the most important thing. And you’re liking working for ARGUS?”

Swallowing roughly, Felicity’s hands froze before pulling the jacket completely off of him.

“It’s different,” John finally said. “But it gives me meaning.”

Felicity bit back a bitter and snarky comment, turning away from them to put the jacket down. 

“I’m glad you found another way to do some good,” Oliver said sincerely. 

“Thanks, man. That means a lot. I’m relieved you’re out and okay.” 

“I’m guessing you heard our earlier conversation about Diaz?”

Dig nodded. “Yes. And for the record, the FBI kept a tight leash on Diaz. Lyla tried to intervene and they wouldn’t hear it. We had no jurisdiction to do anything.”

“I understand,” Oliver said. 

“I don’t,” John said bitterly. “FBI has no interest in sharing intel.” 

Keeping a neutral look on her face, Felicity turned back to them. Her hand found Oliver’s instantly and caressed his forearm with her other hand. She kissed his shoulder, resting her nose against the familiar sweatshirt. 

“We’re finally free of Diaz,” Felicity mumbled against Oliver’s arm.

Oliver glanced down at her. “We’re free.” 

They looked at each other and a silent understanding passed between the couple. 

“I should go,” John said, apologetically. “I would stay longer but I have to do something for ARGUS today before it’s too late.” 

Oliver pulled away from Felicity to hug John with his good arm. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect your family while you were gone,” Dig whispered to Oliver. “I did my best.”

Felicity bit her lip, pretending not to have overheard.

Oliver grinned and patted him on the back. “You’re family too, John.” 

Dig nodded once in reply. 

When Oliver headed to the bathroom, Felicity walked Dig out. “I’ll come by tomorrow unless you need anything sooner.” 

Felicity shook her head. “We should be okay. I think Dinah’s coming by in a few hours with some big belly burgers and ice packs.” Crossing her arms, she peeked behind Dig to check if Oliver was still in the bathroom. Seeing the coast was clear she continued. “Oliver needs sleep - a  _ lot _ of it - and I need to check him for injuries. He may think he’s convinced everyone, but he’s in agony. I’m honestly terrified to see how bad it is. I might have to take him to a hospital. Though I doubt I’ll be able to convince him it’s necessary. He could be on the verge of death and Oliver will always say,  _ I’m fine, Felicity _ .” 

Dig nodded in agreement, smiling slightly at her tangent.

Grasping her friend’s arm lightly, she stopped herself from babbling further and said, “Thank you for everything. Tell Lyla thanks too.” 

“Of course.” 

“And tell her to expect my call later,” she added distractedly as Oliver opened the bathroom door. “I need her help with something else.”

“Will do, Felicity. Go take care of your husband. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay,” she agreed as Dig opened the door and swiftly left. 

Sighing in relief, stress and anxiety washing away, she flipped on the extra latch to the door and let the realization that she was alone with her husband for the first time in ages properly sink in. Felicity toed off her booties and in stocking feet slowly walked over to Oliver who was staring out the window of the hotel room. She took off her bomber jacket, revealing her printed tank top, and placed it on the bed while biting her lip. 

Should she interrupt him? Should she leave him be? It would make sense if he needed a minute alone. Felicity could give that to him. But maybe he didn’t want to be alone? He’d been alone a lot. 

“Felicity,” Oliver said softly, “I can hear you thinking  _ loudly  _ about something from here.” He turned around, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “What is it?” 

Smiling awkwardly, she gestured to the door. “I mean, I can give you some time alone if you want. It’s not a problem. I’d understand if you needed a little space.”

“Fe-lic-ity,” he said, looking bewildered. “Come here.” 

Throat clenched at the sweetness in his voice, her legs moved as if they had a mind of their own. Instantly, she hugged him, her palms grasping Oliver’s back as his arms wrapped around hers. Felicity closed her eyes and drank in the familiar warmth of her husband’s scent. 

“I missed you,” she whispered shakily. She’d already told him, but it beared repeating again. Apparently he agreed.

He kissed her hair. “I missed you too.”

Squeezing him slightly in relief, she felt a sharp intake of breath against her ear, reminding her of his predicament. Felicity released him and took a step back, determined to make sure he was okay. “Time to strip.”

Groaning, Oliver said, “Honey, I don’t think we, I should -”

She laughed. “Oliver, we’re not having sex right now.”

He blinked, evidently confused. “Then why -”

Gaping at her dense husband, Felicity sighed and interrupted him. “Because you’re injured and from the looks of it no one cleaned any of your wounds.” She clapped her hands together. “So chop chop, we’re taking off your clothes.”

Oliver’s lips turned into a thin line. “You don’t need to -”

“Oh, hush,” Felicity said undeterred. “It’s either you strip for me or we go to the hospital to get you checked. Take your pick.” She already knew the answer, but figured she’d pretend to let him choose. 

His lips quirked slightly, but he used his good hand to unzip the sweatshirt. Taking that as an answer she stepped forward and helped him out of the hoodie, discarding it on the bed. She noticed the deep red stain on the shoulder of his white shirt and bit the inside of her mouth in frustration. 

When he tried to raise his left arm to take off the shirt he grunted in pain. “Hold up,” she muttered quickly, turning around to grab something from the duffle bag.

“What are you -” He paused when he saw her come back with his knife. “Why do you have that?”

“It comes in handy more often than I’d previously thought.” 

Felicity flipped it open and smiled. “Now hold still.” She pulled at the shirt, tearing it with the sharp knife. Finally, she reached the hem and cut it in half. “We’re gonna burn this, I hope you know that,” she muttered to herself as she flipped the knife closed and pocketed it.

Oliver’s lips twisted into a hint of a smile as he watched her with adoring yet fatigue riddled blue eyes. 

Felicity tugged lightly at the fabric to pull it down his shoulders. Freezing, her eyes went wide in shock. Red and Purpling bruises covered the expanse of his upper chest and abdominals; It wasn’t a pretty sight but she’d expected it. However, when her eyes landed on his left shoulder and saw it covered in dried blood her stomach sank. No wonder he didn’t want to take it off earlier. 

Grinding her teeth, she breathed in and out of her nose to stay calm as she helped him out of the prison garb. Tossing it aside, she looked up at him to find Oliver studying her, his expression carefully guarded. She closed her eyes momentarily to pull back her anger at the inadequate prison staff, knowing that she needed to focus on her husband. The staff could wait.

Once it was under control, she opened her eyes and took another look. Only a few other cuts adorned his chest and arms. The rest were bruises. None were very dark yet, which was good. Otherwise, she’d be worried he’d punctured something.

Felicity told him to hold still and walked around to look at his back. Though there wasn’t nearly as much damage, there were multiple bruises. The largest of ones were massive semi diagonal lines across his shoulder blades. She touched it lightly and he flinched - though she couldn’t be sure if that was because it was _her_ touching him or because he was in pain. Looking down, she also saw the hint of a reddish blotch creeping down his hip and disappearing under the sweatpants. Likely, one of the reasons why he was limping.

“Baby, sit down. I gotta wash up. Okay?” Felicity whispered, placing a soft kiss against an uninjured section of Oliver’s back, her fingers dancing against his sides soothingly. 

“Okay.” His voice suddenly sounded hoarse as if the adrenaline of the day was wearing off and he could finally surrender to how he was feeling.

Felicity washed her hands and grabbed the supplies as quickly as possible to find her husband shirtless and waiting patiently for her on the hotel bed. 

“Hey.” Felicity put everything down next to him. “How did that happen?” she asked, tilting her head towards the stab wound.

“Diaz.”

She nodded, guessing he didn’t want to elaborate, and started cleaning the wound. Once cleared of blood it, thankfully, didn’t look that deep. It would need stitches, yes, but as long as she cleaned and bandaged it, it would be fine until the doctor saw Oliver tomorrow.

“And the bruises on your back that look like they’re from a pole?” she asked, her voice purposefully light, as she dabbed an antiseptic onto broken skin. 

“Do you really wanna know?”

Blinking, her hand stopped long enough for her to look up at him. “What happened-” she said, her voice harsher. “Why  _ wouldn’t _ I want to know?”

His lips turned into a straight line, looking unsure and guilty as hell, and her stomach dropped. “What happened, Oliver?” 

Voice slightly higher than normal, he said, “I sorta fell over the railing of the third story. And I mighta hit a few things on my way down.”

“What!” she yelled, her eyes going wide. 

He shrugged, grimacing. “I absolutely broke ribs and probably chipped my hip bone and almost dislocated my shoulder, but I’m okay.”

Shaking her head, Felicity cursed herself. “I should have taken you to the damn hospital immediately but -”

“But you knew I wouldn’t go,” Oliver said knowingly. 

Frowning, she nodded. “Yes. I wasn’t going to tell you until tomorrow, but I talked to Lyla and we’ve set up an appointment. An ARGUS doctor is coming here tomorrow to examine you.”

Oliver sighed. “Honey, that isn’t necessary. I’ll heal fine.” 

Glaring at her husband, she said, “No, Oliver. For once, you  _ don’t  _ have to hide your injuries. You’re getting looked at tomorrow, end of discussion. _ And _ you are going to do exactly what he says. You will take whatever meds he offers and you will take it easy until you heal.”

Huffing, he opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. 

Good, she thought. Maybe he’s willing to listen to reason.

“And we’re taking photos of all these injuries,” she declared, absolutely done with his laid back attitude. “I’m not sure if Laurel could use them, but I’m documenting it anyway.”

“So you were working with Black Siren,” he said softly.

Smirking at the not so subtle attempt to change the subject, she said, “Yep.”

“Why?” he asked flabbergasted. “I don’t understand -”

“We’ll talk about everything when you’ve had some sleep,’ Felicity said much more softly, hoping to avoid that conversation for a little longer. 

Once every cut was cleaned and bandaged on Oliver’s upper body they moved to the bathroom. Felicity washed off the dirt and sweat from his head, neck, upper body and legs with a washcloth, paying special attention to the bruised areas. 

“Thank you,” Oliver whispered as he sat on the edge of the tub wearing only his boxers. 

She grabbed a new towel and started gently drying him off. “Your welcome, hun,” she hummed as he lifted his arms slightly so she could dry off his sides and under arms. “Do you feel any better?” 

“Cleaner, yes,” he said dryly. 

Felicity laughed and nodded. “That’s a start at least. Next step is either washing and conditioning that mess of a beard or shaving it off,” she teased, most likely a little too lightly.

“Too rough?” Oliver asked, smiling up at her, his eyes bloodshot and half closed.

“Mmhmm.” 

“Noted.”

Not long after, Felicity quickly pulled back the comforter of the hotel bed that she hadn’t even slept in yet and fluffed the pillows. Oliver stood next to her, barely putting pressure on his injured leg. When everything was just right she gave him the okay and he slowly sat down and eased his legs onto the bed with her help. Grimacing in agony her husband laid back as Felicity gently fixed the pillow under his head and pulled the covers over him. 

He closed his eyes momentarily, his shoulders and arms noticeably relaxing. “I haven’t been in a real bed in -” he stopped himself, his gaze finding hers. 

Smiling sadly, she nodded. “I know, baby.”

“You know, you don’t have to join me yet. It’s still daylight out,” Oliver said gruffly. 

“I know,” Felicity said quickly. “But I want to.” 

“Then how bout you strip for me?” he asked, grinning like an idiot.

Rolling her eyes, she glared at him. “Oliver,  _ nothing _ is happening tonight. You can’t even take a proper shower right now. I swear to god -”

Oliver chuckled. “Okay, fine. Don’t strip.”

Feeling exhausted, emotionally strung out and horny, Felicity glanced at her smiling and physically broken husband waiting for her in bed and something in her softened. She didn’t know if she had the heart to not give him this after everything they’d been through. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem, but Felicity knew that no matter how injured Oliver was, he always wanted sex. She’d learned that pretty early on in their relationship. If he’d felt he could push through the pain then he didn’t care, which turned problematic on more than one occasion. Once even lending itself to an ER visit. If she _ did _ strip, there’s no way he wouldn’t try something later tonight and she didn’t know if she would have the heart and will power to stop herself. 

Deciding on a compromise, she placed her glasses next to her phone on her side of the bed. Oliver watched her as she walked across the room to her luggage. She grabbed one of his worn and soft t-shirts and turned around, so he could see more of her.

Felicity pointed her index finger at him. “This  _ isn’t  _ stripping. I’m just not going in the bathroom to change. And  _ nothing _ is happening tonight regardless of how ‘ _ fine _ ’ you feel. Okay?” she said, hoping the clarification helped drive the point home. 

Smirking at his obvious win, he nodded. “Deal.”

Smiling endearingly at her husband, she shook her head and quickly took off her tank top, tossing it in her open luggage. Avoiding his eyes, she unzipped her jeans and slowly pulled them off, trying to do so as if no one was watching. Though, if she was being honest with herself, her hips were swaying more than necessary and she was pushing her cleavage up with her arms - what little of it she had, at least. Jeans now discarded she stood in front of him in a basic pair of black cotton panties and a nude bra. She was wearing nothing special but he licked his lips as his eyes raked over her body in a way that made her skin heat under her husband’s gaze. 

“You know,” Felicity said her voice silky soft as she unhooked her bra, “Wednesday is our first wedding anniversary.”

Oliver’s eyes shot up to hers. “Wait, what?” he asked dazed. 

“Mmhmm.” She nodded and let the bra drop to the floor. “You heard me right.”

His eyes darted to her breasts, her nipples pebbling under the cool air. “I completely forgot,” he admitted softly.

“I figured,” Felicity said as she grabbed the t-shirt and slipped it over her head, pulling the hem down to her thighs. “But that’s okay.”

She quickly walked over to the bed and slid in next to him, careful not to move his body too much. Leaning over Oliver, her hand on his pillow, she kissed him on the lips lightly. It was barely more than a peck but the rough beard rubbed against her skin.

She pulled back far enough to look into his eyes as his good hand came up to brush the hair out of her face.

Felicity’s heart swelling with warmth, her eyes welling with tears, she smiled. 

“Welcome home, Oliver.”

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are like heaven <3 Come find me on tumblr (while I'm still there) @fabradicalfem 
> 
> Note: I know Diaz isn't actually dead on the show, but in my world he is lol.


End file.
